Gemotions

The aroma of dinner filled the kitchen, but Maya had no appetite. Her mother’s cheerful chatter felt grating. All she could think about was the coach’s voice. "We have to let you go."

She sat at the table, picking at her food. The bright colors of the meal seemed artificial, a stark contrast to the grey landscape in her mind. Her chest felt constricted, as if someone was squeezing the air from her lungs.

She pushed her plate away, the food untouched. Tears pricked her eyes, and she excused herself, hurrying to her room. She needed to be alone, to wallow in the quiet darkness of her own thoughts.